The Winter Queen
by writerfan2013
Summary: "She arrived in white, as the first autumn frosts were hardening the earth and the sloes were purpling on the blackthorn bushes.." Mithian comes to Camelot with a secret plan. Merlin has a secret too, but can they each find what they need? AU in which Camelot is at peace, Merlin is the court physician and Mithian is now Queen of Nemeth. Merlin x Mithian, feedback pls! -Sef
1. Chapter 1

She arrived in white, as the first autumn frosts were hardening the earth and the sloes were purpling on the blackthorn bushes. Her horse was pure white, a gift from the eastern kingdom, and her white furs hailed from the lands far to the north.

All of Camelot stood in the great square to greet her, and many who had seen her before remarked that she seemed older, paler, sadder. Being Queen was not for everyone, they said. This being patently true, the murmurs continued: a queen with a consort and no heir must be an unhappy woman.

Her man was away, said people farthest to the back of the crowd. Fighting wars.

There was no war, said those nearby. Camelot would never tolerate it.

Then he was away fighting tournaments.

Why was he not here?

"Because Queen Mithian is invited to be guideparent, and her consort is not," said Merlin, the King's right hand, appearing on the castle steps in his black cloak. He gave the gossips a stony look, and they dispersed, muttering.

The King's own man sighed. Mithian bore enough without these cruel rumours.

He worked his way down the steps to where the Queen waited on her horse. "The King is in council," he said loudly.

Mithian frowned. "Good day, Merlin."

He smiled as she recalled his name from previous visits. "Good day, my lady."

"Can Arthur not leave council to greet a guest?" She extended a hand, and Merlin stepped closer to lift her from her mount. As he set her down on the stone flags, he murmured: "The King is at the Queen's side. The baby."

Mithian clutched Merlin's arm. "Is everything all right?"

"Yes. But it is taking a long time."

"Should you not be there?" she asked as he led her, her gloved hand on his arm, up the steps into the castle. "You are a physician."

"Arthur is the only man allowed," said Merlin. "And the midwife was not happy about that."

"He insisted?" said Mithian with a smile.

"What man would not want to witness the miracle of his own first child?" said Merlin. But to his dismay, her smile faded, and she gathered up her skirts and urged him to take her quickly to her quarters so that she could rest.

"Are you well?" he asked at her door. "Is there anything I can do-"

"Thank you, nothing."

She shut the door a shade more quickly than was courteous, leaving Merlin frowning in the cold, dry corridor.

He glanced around. The Queen's luggage would be a while arriving. She brought no personal servant with her. He was alone.

And so, because he was not just Arthur's man but also a sorcerer, he whispered a word and put his eye to the oaken grain of Mithian's door.

Under his enchantment the wood thinned to glass. Merlin peered into the room.

Mithian was unfastening her white cloak. It fell to the floor like an exhausted hound. Merlin watched, poised to withdraw at once from any intimate sight.

But Mithian only sighed, and drew out a handkerchief from her sleeve, and pressed it against her eyes as she stood, wracked with silent sobs.


	2. Chapter 2

A healthy son. It was the best news any kingdom could hope for, and the Queen flourished too, so there was much to celebrate.

Merlin, as the King's right hand, was burdened with every detail of arranging a great feast. But for Arthur striding about the castle with the baby in the crook of his shield arm, proclaiming, "My son, my son," Merlin would hardly have seen the child. Mithian was stationed near-constantly with the Queen for company, and relief when the baby cried, which he did very much.

At the guideparent feast, the Queen and tiny Prince retired early, and Mithian stood in for hostess. She occupied the vacated seat at Arthur's left hand, poured his wine, and made him laugh with hunting tales.

Merlin waited nearby, his dinner a long distance off, the chance of wine slim now that the knights had spied the fresh casks from the southern kingdoms. He watched Arthur, of course, alert to any command from his friend and king, but he also studied Mithian, for it struck him again and again that she had changed from their last meeting.

He remembered a proud but generous girl, brave and kind, with a mischievous wit and merry laugh. He had admired her very much, and for her part, she spoke to him as an equal, and never let him carry all the bags.

Now Merlin saw a changed woman. She did not laugh, and she seemed, to Merlin's practised eye, lost and unhappy.

She had inherited her kingdom since she last came to Camelot, and was handfast to some distant cousin of hers, as her consort. Her hope of a great alliance for her kingdom had come to nothing, as so many hopes do. But she was not alone.

Merlin chided himself for this thought. Certainly to be alone, to have hoped and been disappointed, was very painful. But loneliness is not always cured by company, and often company only makes it worse.

He thought he detected this in Mithian - not loneliness but loss, and something else too, something Merlin recognised very well: the weariness that comes from carrying a heavy secret.

* * *

Mithian's visit continued as autumn deepened. Fires were lit in all parts of the castle where the baby might pass; the knights brought sweetmeats for Queen and child from all over the kingdom.

The darkest part of the year was coming, and although magic was subdued all across Arthur's united Albion, still the people made signs against evil and sought out wise men and women for good luck charms.

And all the while Merlin worked in secret, removing the useless charms with a rueful alike, replacing them with his own protective wards and wishing that he could be useful, without being a hypocrite.

"What are you doing?"

Queen Mithian spoke from her open doorway, startling Merlin.

He thought quickly. Like lying, swift thought came readily after years of secrecy. "Waiting for you," he said, stuffing the protective charm into his breeches pocket. "You seemed a little pale, my lady. I came to recommend a walk in the fresh air."

Mithian blinked.

Merlin sighed inwardly. More guilt, more lies. How could kindness have led to so much deception? Yet the Queen did indeed look wan. Her merriment at last night's feast was only a sham.

"I cannot refuse," she said.

"You could," he said. "You are a queen." A queen whose eyes held many shadows.

"Yes, that's true. But I would be foolish to ignore the advice of a physician."

"Or a friend," Merlin said. He offered his arm.

Mithian smiled then, and the darkness under her eyes diminished a little. "Or that," she said, and hooked her hand into his elbow. As they reached the steps which led to the frost-ridden courtyard, Mithian paused, and Merlin stopped too. "Thank you," she said.

"Anyone would do this," he said. "Seeing you ... tired."

"Perhaps," she said, and it seemed to him that she clung to his arm more tightly after that, all the way down the stairs and into the chilly autumn air. She let go and wandered about the rose garden, admiring the late blooms, and turning the black earth with her foot to see where gardeners had planted bulbs for next spring's display.

Merlin watched her, and saw colour return to her cheeks, and some carelessness to her aspect.

When it was time to go in, he took her arm once more. At the top of the steps he said, "I will come every day until I'm satisfied that you are well."

"I am well," she said.

He gave her a look.

"Until tomorrow, then," she said, and he smiled at her and she at him, and he stood very still watching as she glided away.

* * *

Merlin went to his chambers and pulled out the almanac. Most things that can be learned, can be learned from books.

He counted days since Mithian arrived, and noted when she had seemed most burdened by pain. It did not form the pattern he expected. She was not awaiting a child, nor suffering from the pull of her moon. He closed the book and sat worrying that it was some serious illness, something to make her deathly pale, and sad.

He watched her closely after that - no chore, for she was unfailingly beautiful, even in sadness. And he noticed, with embarrassment and wonder, that Mithian watched him too.


	3. Chapter 3

One day the King took charge of the baby prince, and carried him off on a tour of the royal stables, and the Queen was able to rest in her chambers in peace.

Mithian sat with her, but the Queen, who was nobody's fool, knew something was wrong. "What is it, Mithian?" she said.

Mithian was not one to waste time when faced with a direct question. "I have a favour to ask."

"Just ask," said Gwen. "We are all your friends here. if there is anything you need..."

"It is rather awkward," said Mithian. "I have been thinking and thinking, but now I have made up my mind."

She paused. Gwen's eyes were patient.

Mithian took a breath and asked, "Is there on your staff a man you can trust?" she said. "Trust with any task, no matter how delicate?"

"Delicate? how?" said Gwen.

"It concerns my consort," said Mithian.

"I would trust Merlin with my life, or Arthur's," said Gwen. "He is our truest friend. What task needs this trust?" She halted as a thought struck. "Surely... You do not mean to remove your consort?"

"No," said Mithian.

"Then what?" asked Gwen. "And why come to us, when your people love you and would do anything to secure your happiness?"

"It requires total secrecy," said Mithian, "and I am too new a queen to know who among my staff I can trust. You and Arthur have ruled these several years. You know your people."

"All right, I understand," said Gwen. "Merlin, then. He is honest and true. What is this task?"

Merlin, Mithian thought. Yes.

Gwen was waiting. "The getting of a child," said Mithian baldly.

Gwen blinked. "Ah. Then perhaps Merlin is not for you."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, he is devoted to Arthur." Gwen blinked at Mithian once more. "I have never known him seek ... Female company."

"I catch your meaning," said Mithian. She thought of Merlin, first to greet her, his hands on her waist, his blue eyes traveling over her figure as he lifted her from her horse. His wrist warm under her hand as they strolled among the roses, and his quick smile when she made some slight joke. "I don't agree," she said.

"Really? You think there have been women? Surely Arthur would notice." Gwen corrected herself. "I would notice."

Mithian grinned, her heart lifting for the first time in weeks. "I think Merlin may just be very, very discreet."

* * *

The rose garden drooped and dripped, but still Merlin accompanied Mithian on walks all around its shaped beds and prickly hedges. He was smiling today, as if he saw beauty in every plant. Perhaps, as a physician, he did.

It seemed a good moment to present her proposal, but it was hard to know where to begin. "Merlin," she said.

"My lady."

"I must ask you something, and please do not be offended."

"What is it?"

"It is a delicate thing."

"I have seen much in my work as physician," he said. I am not easily shocked. "Don't worry." His eyes were anxious.

"It is not a medical matter." Except that it was, somewhat. She took a deep breath.

His gaze was soft on her, full of his typical kindness and concern. She almost could not ask the question. She clasped his hand in her gloved ones. "Merlin," she said again.

He waited, covering her hand in turn. The sky above was clear and bright, a hopeful day, reflected in his blue eyes.

"I have a favour to ask," Mithian said, "a favour only a man can do for me, and only a man that I may trust. I trust you."

"What favour," he said, drawing back.

"A child," she said. "Nemeth must have an heir."

He released her hands as if she were on fire. "You are married," he said.

"Not any more," she said.

"I have not heard any notice of death."

"My consort is away. He has been away these last...months. I do not know where he is."

"That does not change his duty to you. Or yours to him."

"Merlin," said Mithian. I" want a child and I have decided on this plan. Will you help me?"

He hesitated for long moments, his face showing anger and regret. At last he said, "I cannot."

* * *

"You refuse me," she said.

"I must."

"Will you tell me why?"

She looked so hurt. It cut his heart to see her so disappointed. but he could not tell her the truth. "It is a hard thing to be a fatherless child," he said.

"You never knew your father?"

"Only briefly. Before he died. I lived my whole life without him and then he died just as I knew him."

"My child will have a father," she said.

"But your child will not know his father," said Merlin. "Will never know me. And I have had enough of people not knowing me."

Mithian walked away.

Merlin stood in the rose garden alone, looking at the hard earth.


	4. Chapter 4

Merlin's knock was soft, but Mithian called out at once, "Who is it?"

"Merlin."

"Come in."

He entered, closing the door behind him.

Mithian was nowhere to be seen. "I'm on the terrace," came her voice. "Do not join me."

Merlin walked to the window and craned through it. Mithian sat in the narrow gap between the wall and the outer parapet. She must have climbed out of the window, for a chair was against the inside wall. She sat with her knees raised and her back to the room.

"I only wanted to make sure you are well," he said, withdrawing into the room.

"I have no man," said Mithian without looking up.

Merlin shoved the chair away and sank to the stone floor beneath the window, back to back with Mithian through the wall. "I'm here," he said, and heard Mithian begin to cry.

* * *

He was angry, on her behalf. Gwen had been angry too, and Mithian had begged her not to tell Arthur, who would reuse an army and and seek out Mithian's consort and run him through.

Merlin's anger was quieter, but vehement. "No one should be used so cruelly," he said. "You wrote to him, you told him?"

"I told him of the child, and I told him when..."

"It's all right."

"He never came back. Our land is not so large, Merlin, that a man cannot be found who wants to be." Mithian's brave voice shook.

"No."

Mithian sighed.

"You have had a great loss," Merlin said. "Not just the child."

"It was only a month -"

"Thar is not the point," said Merlin. "You lost more than something tangible. You lost your future, your idea of the future. And any man who will not comfort you in that loss-"

"He did not want me in my joy, either," said Mithian. "He only wants my hunting horses, and my royal seal to travel about as he pleases."

"Did you love him?" Merlin asked after a time. The open window blew cold air down his collar, but he took no notice. "When you were handfast to him?"

"No," came Mithian's voice. "It was properly a royal match."

Merlin was silent. He sat so long, so quiet, that Mithian asked, "Are you still there?" with a crack in her voice.

Merlin said, "-I cannot do all you ask. But I will comfort you."

Mithian's boots landed on the stone flags beside him, and the rest of her followed. She stood looking down at him, her hands on her hips. "Will this comfort allow the getting of a child?"

"Perhaps," said Merlin. He had counted days in his head as he sat there. "It is possible." Possible, but highly unlikely. He had reasons for great caution, not least of which was Mithian's obvious pain.

Mithian pressed her knuckles to her mouth.

Merlin stood, and brushed dust from his clothes. "I will visit you tonight," he said. "If you wish."

"At midnight," said Mithian.

His face was full of pity for her. She could not stand it. Kindness was far harder to bear than cruelty. Kindness made her weep. "Will you kiss me," she asked him brusquely, "in this comfort? Well you dodo what a man does?"

"I will kiss you," said Merlin. "I will do any task you ask, but."

She waited.

"I would not leave my child with a man who treats you cruelly," said Merlin.

Something in his tone tore at her heart. The way he said, my child . But she must be strong. "Are you bargaining with me?"

"Call it that. Those are my terms."

"Yet you would leave a child with me."

"Not willingly," he said.

At that moment there came a knock at the door, and Merlin slipped away before Mithian could ask what he meant.


	5. Chapter 5

Mithian lay on her white bed, wearing a white night gown. "Come in."

Merlin entered, wearing a formal black quilted jacket over dark trousers: court dress. She was about to comment, when he saw her. His mouth tightened.

He crossed the chamber swiftly and offered her his hand. She took it, puzzled, and he pulled her to her feet. Gathering up her brown traveling cloak, he flung that around her shoulders and left her clutching it while he returned to lock the chamber door.

"What is wrong. Will you not do this thing then?"

"I will," he said, "but you must know that a man cannot act on command."

He saw her safely wrapped up, and led her to the window. Outside the moon came and went between small clouds, and the stars were bright. Merlin and Mithian exchanged glances, and then he helped her out of the window and onto the tiny terrace.

"Do you want me to seduce you," she asked, once they stood under the night sky.

"I want you to consider what you are doing," he said. "You must bear at least half the consequences."

"All, I would say."

"No," he said. "For I would have and lose a child all at once, which is a hard burden."

"I never thought that you would want a child," she said.

He said nothing, only looked at her and she knew her own tactlessness.

She said, "Then why have you not married? I am surprised that you do not already have a sweetheart. Do you?"

"No."

"Then find one, marry."

"I will only marry for love," he said. "And the woman I favour does not love me."

"I'm sorry. But there are others."

He shook his head. "I have loved and lost too often to seek it out again."

He had found wine, and cups, and now poured them both a full portion. "Since I am not your servant tonight," he said. "Mithian."

She liked the sound of her name on his lips. He spoke it like something precious and fragile. "Merlin," she said, and saw his blush.

"It is a man's part to entice," he said. He touched a strand of her hair where it passed her cheek. His middle finger, rough from years of labour, brushed her skin. "Though a woman has all the beauty. Shall we drink?"

They clinked cups together and sipped, each watching the other.

"I think I am no good at deliberate seduction," said Merlin.

"Accidental seduction is harder to arrange," she said, laughing.

"I am not cynical," he said. "I still believe love is a chance of stars and summer."

"Summer?" she said. "We are past Samhain."

"I mean a summer of the mind, the soul. A happy time or a happy mood that lets you see another person as more than simply that. Something that blooms like the daffodils at the end of spring, a flower we can all recognise, yet every year they seem like a miracle."

"You are romantic," she said.

"I make no apology."

"I could never ask one of you."

She lowered her cup. "Should you kiss me now, now that we have established it is not summer?"

His eyes were downcast. "Let's look at the stars a while."

He stood behind her so that she could not see his face, and began pointing out the constellations. She lifted her cup again, and drank, and when she noticed his cup untouched she handed it to him.

"There are stars that fly," he said.

"A comet," she said. "I've never seen one."

"You need to stand still and watch for a time," he said. "But they are always in the sky."

"Are you going to make me wait until we see one?" she asked.

His soft laughter. "Yes."

He cupped his left hand around her left shoulder, and pointed with his right, cup still in it. "See. As soon as you look, there is a star."

"How did you do that?" she said.

"Skill," he said, with a smirk.

"There's another one. And another!"

"Do you want to go in? It's cold." He moved a little closer to her.

"Not yet," she said. "Make there be more shooting stars, my lord."

"I cannot move the stars," said Merlin, with a smile in his voice, "not even for you."

She touched his hands and thought that this man, quiet yet strong, could do anything, and never let anyone know what he had done. "Do you believe we are guided by stars?" she said.

"Each of us has his own star," he said. "We follow or disregard it, but it is always there, shining if we look."


	6. Chapter 6

"I will kiss you," Merlin said as the night watch rang the first bell. "You might find you have changed your mind."

Mithian placed her cup on the parapet. Her nose was freezing, but as he moved to place his body against hers, he was warm. She hung her arms around his neck, and smiled at him. She felt nervous, but he seemed only serious, and a little sad.

He bent and gently touched his mouth to hers, warm where she was cold. She was about to protest that this was far too little, when he tightened his hold on her and kissed her again, harder, his lips pressing hers, and then more still, a searching kiss such as a husband gives a wife, and nothing like what she expected from the modest, reticent Merlin.

He drew back and gazed down at her. "Tell me at once if you want me to stop," he said.

Her mouth tingled. She nodded. "I will tell you." He would never hurt her, she was certain. His darkness and discretion were for some other secret.

She lifted her face for him to kiss her again. He did, with the same tenderness. "And are you still inclined to offer - comfort?" she asked as they broke apart once more. "I understand that it is no good if I don't please you too."

"You please me," he said. "And more. Since we are here under the watching stars..."

"What?"

"You are the woman I mentioned. Who I favour."

Mithian blinked. "You said she did not care for you," she said. "But you have never asked me if I do."

"I know."

"You are strange," she said.

"Yes. I suppose."

"I have always liked you."

He burst out laughing. "That's what every lover longs to hear."

"Hush! I'm being nice!"

"Anyway you know. I could not do this if... this was not you."

"No other lady friends," she wondered.

"One or two," he said. "Naturally."

"Naturally." Ah, the simple life of a man!

"None like you."

Again he kissed her, and now she relaxed, let go of her questions and her doubts. His kisses were like bathing in a sun-warmed pool...comfort and balm as well as enveloping pleasure.

"Come to bed," she said.

* * *

She woke with her face against a man's chest, fine hair ticking her mouth. Merlin had her in his arms, and as she stirred, he woke. "Hello, love," he said, and smiled.

"Love," she said. "That is rather presumptuous."

"I'm naked in your bed and you are naked with me. We have done the deed that only lovers do and so I think I can call you love, darling, sweetheart..." He kissed her with each affectionate name.

"All right, I concede." She hesitated, then kissed his chest. "Love," she said, and felt his shiver under her cheek. She kissed him again, then, pushing him flat on her bed and making as if to pin him with his arms above his head. He submitted laughing, and she kissed him and caressed him in all the parts which had given her pleasure until he cried out, "Stop, I must," and she replied, "Yes, you must."

* * *

The next day Merlin came to tell Mithian that her horse was fresh shod and ready to go out riding should she wish. "Go," said Gwen. "The baby is sleeping and so might I." Mithian went, away down the corridor with her hand lightly on Merlin's arm, and he walking beside her very properly. But Gwen smiled, for the two of them were perfectly in step, and a contentment was settled over them that no amount of cool courtesy could disguise.

"Where is he?" said Arthur, appearing in the doorway. He opened his mouth to bellow for Merlin and Gwen put her finger over his lips. "Hush," she said. "Look."

"No," said Arthur, staring after them. "Merlin?"

"He is making her happy," said Gwen.

Arthur grimaced. "It can't last. She must return to her consort. And even Merlin can't prevent a scandal if this gets out."

"We'll see," said Gwen. "I think people here know that love can overcome scandal."

"But the difference between them... She is a queen..." Arthur stopped.

"Honestly," said Gwen, giving him a despairing look. "Sometimes I hope the baby takes after me."


	7. Chapter 7

"I have a task today," Merlin said when Mithian looked for him, having missed their morning walk. "To free the orchards of some mistletoe, and bring it back to Camelot for the Yule feast." Mithian had found him readying a horse for draught. He wore a wolfskin jacket against the November cold.

"That is not for some weeks." Mithian caressed the horse's nose. The animal was a sturdy mare, thick in the haunches and with a placid eye.

"I always gather it at this time of year," said Merlin. "There are other plants, too, on my list. The store cupboard must be stocked for winter fevers, especially with the baby Prince in the household."

Mithian scooped some hay from the rack and fed it to the mare. "Can I come with you?"

Merlin regarded her."That's a bit scandalous," he said. "The Queen and the servant."

"The Queen and the court physician," she said. "Or the Queen and the King's dear friend."

Merlin grinned. "Don't let Arthur hear you call me that."

"Anyway," said Mithian. "I am finding scandal a great antidote to sadness."

It is hard to keep count when love blurs days into weeks. Merlin had watched the stars return to Mithian's eyes, and knew his own caution was gone, flown away into midnight like the sparks trailing a meteor. "Come with me then," he said.

She grinned, and scrambled eagerly into the driver's seat.

"Oh, you think?" He jumped up beside her and reached for the reins.

"I know " she said, clucking at the horse to move off. "And in return, I will help you work. And in return for that, perhaps there well be some... Comfort."

"You don't seem sad," he said, and it was true.

She lay her hand on his arm. "I'm not. But still I want to spend this day with you."

She gazed into his face, her brown eyes bright, and he was lost.

* * *

"I think," said Mithian, lifting her head from their bed of wolfskin and mistletoe, "that this is rather uneven."

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"Well," she said. "It is possible that you may wish comfort too."

She untied the neckerchief he often wore, and unlaced his shirt. "I never knew that a man could be beautiful," she said, "but that is what you are."

He laughed at that but allowed her to part the neck of his shirt and put her mouth on his collarbone. And then he did not laugh, but grasped her and held her mouth to his skin, and said, "Mithian, Mithian," and accepted every thing she gave, in amazement and gratitude, because she had never promised to love him.

"Am I beautiful in your eyes, then?" he asked as they lay in the cart, and the horse cropped grass contentedly.

"In my eyes and the eyes of anyone who can see," she said. "Every woman looks at you."

"No," he said.

"Yes. But you are too modest to notice."

"You seem to have at least been a little comforted," he said.

"Yes indeed," she replied.

The way he asked her anything she asked...There was something intoxicating about it. She felt she had gone a little mad, kissing this man on his cheek, his mouth, his neck, and then his chest, his belly, the sweet lines of his hips and every part in between... But madness can lie close to bliss and if it might be one, it certainly was the other. He accepted every caress with trembling pleasure, and she knew that for all his calm, he loved her. It was strange to feel how he relished her touch, strange and wonderful, to hear someone cry out, to see and feel his delight at every little motion, to likewise show him with cries and whispers how he made her shine.

Their love was slow and long that day, and afterwards she could not think of a child, or her plan, or anything except how privileged she was to have known this man, no matter the reason. She told him so, and he cradled her in his arm and told her the luck was all his. And they kissed, and if the sun had been higher in the sky, the cart and the horse might never have come home.

* * *

"If there is no child from all this," said Gwen, watching them clatter into the square as the sun faded behind the hills, "then I am no judge of men."

"I'm a little envious," said Arthur. "I don't recall days in the hay. Or mistletoe."

"Fatherhood has addled your memory," she said.

"Huh. Merlin must not have enough to do."

"Arthur," said Gwen, "don't you dare give him tasks."

"Huh. Then kiss me, my scandalous wife." And she did.


	8. Chapter 8

"Come to my chambers tonight," said Merlin one day as Mithian sat rocking the baby Prince. Gwen was in council with Arthur. "I share them with my uncle, but he sleeps much these days."

"Your chambers," said Mithian.

"If you are prepared to lie with me," said Merlin, "you must understand that I am not a prince, that I am nothing."

"You are not nothing," she said. "And I do not require a prince. Just a man."

"I am that."

She smiled, and murmured soothing words to the baby.

"Does it make you sad," Merlin asked, "to hold a child?"

"No," she said in surprise, "how could it?"

"Good," said Merlin.

"I may never have a child of my own," Mithian said. "But if I do not, then I will adopt a fatherless baby as my ward. I will raise it as mine, and love it the same."

"Good," said Merlin again.

He held out his arms and Mithian placed the baby in them. Merlin lay the prince against his left shoulder, to chew on the leather of Merlin's collar.

"No child is truly fatherless," said Merlin. "What if some man arrives one day to claim it?"

"Of course I will acknowledge him," said Mithian.

"And what if people gossip, and claim that the baby is truly yours, yours and mine?" Merlin asked.

Mithian sighed. The tiny Prince was smiling and gumming Merlin's collar. Merlin gave the baby his little finger to bite instead. "I don't know," Mithian said. "Truly, Merlin, I don't know. It seems safest for the baby to remain unidentified... I don't know. But in any case, there will be nothing to prove he would be ... yours."

"I wouldn't be so sure," said Merlin, but he was murmuring, soothing the baby, and Mithian could not swear she had heard right.

* * *

Merlin's chambers were high-ceilinged and full of books. The bottles and boxes of a physician's trade lay all around, and a homely kitchen table occupied the centre of the main room. Ladders climbed to the book shelves, and doors led to the bed chambers. Mithian liked it at once. Everything necessary was here, and the thick door shut tight.

"My room," said Merlin, leading her by the hand.

She saw a pitifully narrow bed, a mere wooden frame and mattress, a chest with two cups on it, Merlin's formal jacket hung on a chair. There were some high shelves lined with pots. Not much else.

Merlin watched her take in the scene. "Come in," he said, and his smile was so slight that if she had not known him, she might have missed it. "You are welcome to anything I have."

"Likewise," said Mithian. "Truly. I can refuse you nothing. Anything you want, anything in my power to give..."

He lay his finger on her lips. "Some promises cannot be kept. You do not need to make any."

"I want to."

He shook his head. "Only that you love me a little."

"You know I do."

"Then I have more than I ever dreamed."

* * *

Mithian awoke with Merlin's sharp elbow in her ribs. Or was it part of the awful horsehair mattress? But then, how often, out hunting, had she plucked ants and beetles from her hair after a night on the ground itself? She was no delicate flower. All the same, her back ached. Merlin's bed clearly did not anticipate sharing.

She slid out of bed and wrapped her cloak around her. Merlin was fast asleep, smiling.

He murmured nonsense words. Pots rattled on the shelves. Mithian jumped, but it was only the breeze through his tiny high window.

She sat on the chair and hugged her cloak around her. What to do? The moon was bright, and she was wide awake. Perhaps a child had already begun within her, this very night - how could she sleep, thinking of that?

She cast about for occupation, not wanting to go into the main room and risk waking Merlin's old uncle.

Beneath the bed she found a book wrapped in a sheet. Mithian took it out. As soon as she held it she felt a tingle. Turning its pages she was certain: this was a book of magic.

She glanced at Merlin. His lips moved, but he seemed content. Again the pots jousted each other, on the shelves, and it seemed to Mithian that embers, tiny sparks like the end of an autumn fire, drifted about the room.

She blinked, stared but there could be no doubt. He had magic.

Mithian clutched her belly. This, then, was his reluctance. Not for her, or for propriety - she cared little for that - but for his secret, his awful secret. He had magic.

She felt no fear. She knew him, now, too well to fear him. She felt only pity, and admiration. he bore this, lived with this burden every day, and yet was kind and generous. She knew in her heart that he would never harm Arthur, or her. He buried his magic, to protect those he loved.

Then the thought struck. Mithian closed her eyes. A child of Merlin's might also be a child of magic. This was why he had avoided love, and marriage. He would not give anyone the burden he bore himself.

She stood, watching sparks draw patterns in the air as he dreamed. She saw Arthur's face, and dragons, and the turrets of Camelot.

He stirred then, and seemed afraid, his eyes tight closed as if against a dazzling light. Then that passed too, and the sparks became less, only flecks of gold floating around the room like stars.

After a long time Mithian put back the book, and climbed into bed with Merlin. She lay her arm on the pillow above his head. "Sleep," she whispered. "You are safe." He murmured, just her name, and turned his face to her bosom, and slept.


	9. Chapter 9

"I have a secret," Merlin said to Mithian one night as they lay in her chambers, wrapped in the covers but, for the moment, quite chaste.

"What's that?" she asked, wondering about the book.

"You are the first woman I have ever loved. I mean the first in my bed." He turned his head to watch what she would do.

She did not know what to say. "I would not have known," she said.

"My perfect Mithian," he said, laughing.

"It's true," she said. "How did you know so well what to do?"

"The stars and summer," he said.

She thought of him dreaming, making his own golden stars. If she grew a child within her, would he tell her his true secret? "Of course," she said, and stroked his soft black hair, "they would guide you."

"And you," he said, "whether you acknowledge it or not."

"I think my stars are in here," she said, laying her palm in his brow, but still he did not tell her.

* * *

Merlin came into his chambers one evening to find Mithian already there, at the table with a large book open in front of her. The guilt in her face shocked him. His heart pounded, but he could not see the title she was reading.

"What are you doing?" he asked, taking off his winter cloak and laying down his physician's bag.

"Learning," she said.

There was a silence between them. Merlin continued to unpack his things, and Mithian bent over the book, her hair obscuring the page.

How he hated secrets! How he loathed the lie that his life must be. It was said that Mithian's land of Nemeth was more tolerant of magic than Camelot, but still, he could not take such a risk. It was the lie which doomed their love, not any moral consideration.

That she was keeping something from him too, hurt him more than he expected. But he was not in any position to complain.

Mithian closed the book and said, "I must go back to Nemeth after Yule."

Merlin did not answer.

"I have a duty to my kingdom," she said.

"You owe me no explanation. I'm nothing."

"Don't lie!" she cried. "You are not nothing. You are more than you will ever acknowledge, and I will not be lied to!"

She was on her feet, her hands pressing shut the leather book, her eyes aflame.

"Neither will I," he said. "What book is that?"

She lifted it for him to see. An ancient tome of law. His knees buckled. "I have trusted you," she said. "Please trust me."

But he could not reply Yes, and they parted, for almost the final time, doubly sad.


	10. Chapter 10

"My lady," said Merlin on the shortest day, after the fires had been lit and the court were milling around Camelot's great hall, sipping warm Yule wine ahead of the night's midwinter feast.

"Merlin," Mithian said.

Their argument seemed foolish now, under candlelight and in the throng of a great court. She wore a scarlet gown, a tribute to her hosts, and her cheeks were once again plump and rosy. Merlin wore what he always did, for the King, in mistaken kindness, had set him to work, thinking to take his friend's mind off Mithian's imminent departure.

Mithian smiled at the physician, her Merlin, and touched his arm. Surely the whole court knew by now anyway. If everyone could not see her happiness, they were as much fools as she had once been. But Merlin's answering look was serious. "What is it? Is something wrong?"

He drew her to stand by the window, their backs to the room. The two-foot thick walls gave a great wide sill, and beyond it a narrow window glazed in wavy green.

Merlin placed his hands on the grey stone sill. "I want to ask you something and I want you to tell me the truth. Even if you think the truth is not what I want."

"What is it?"

He lifted one hand from the sill and beneath it was a tiny rose, white, a mere bud, the last of any such this year. Mithian blinked. She had not seen any sleight of hand to hide a bloom.

He stopped her question with a look, and lifted his other hand. Beneath it lay a pearly white snowdrop flower, very early, from some sheltered part of Camelot kitchen garden no doubt. It was beautiful, and perfect, a sign of the distant spring.

"Will you marry me?" he said. She stared in amazement and began to exclaim. "Wait. I will walk away, and you must consider. Wear one of these as your answer, at the feast tonight."

Mithian starred at the tiny winter rose and the spring snowdrop. "Merlin..."

"If the answer is no then wear the rose. I will know that our time together has been nothing but a season in my life, a moment that I must try to forget when you are gone.

"If there is any hope, any chance you would stay and be my love, my wife, whatever arrangement we can make, then wear the snowdrop, a sign that you will stay and look for spring with me."

He placed the flowers in her hand and cupped both his around them. He kissed her hands, bowed and walked away.

Mithian cradled the fragile blooms. Merlin's devotion in her hands.

She knew already what her heart would answer, but duty showed another destiny.

She stood a long while, holding two choices, and at last went to walk under the midwinter stars, and ask what they would advise.

* * *

Mithian closed the books. In the end, the answers she sought were not in the stars but in ancient wisdom, the wisdom she should have looked for straight away. In her grief and loss her mind had become muddled. She had been lucky, so lucky, that her plan involved only Merlin, and not some charlatan who would want his offspring on her throne.

She sighed. Only Merlin. That was not at all what she meant. Her luck had gone so far beyond her hopes, in finding him. He was honest, strong, brave, and everything a lover should be. On top of this he was clever, and kind, and had tried to protect her from her own foolishness. But he had succumbed, as she had, to love, and now they both had a chance to make themselves truly unhappy.

Mithian stood, and replaced the books on their shelves. She stood listening, but there was no sign of Merlin's old uncle.

She ought to go and change her gown for the feast tonight. She had planned to wear white, for her departure as well as her arrival. If she lingered now, there would not be time.

She took a breath, steadied herself, and strode to Merlin's room. Crouching, she found the book under his bed.

Almanacs can tell you many things, but not when it is time to crack open a secret, or mend an aching heart.


	11. Chapter 11

Mithian fastened the rose, now opened and in full bloom, into her collar. Their love had been for a season only. That was her plan, and how wrong she had been. It grew and flourished and now her plan was forgotten.

She tucked the snowdrop beside it. No matter what, she could not ask Merlin to give up what she knew only too well was life's most precious gift.

She hoped he would not be afraid, at what she had done, at what she proposed. But he had lived this secret life, cheek to cheek with danger, all this time, and survived. He had more courage than anyone she knew.

She smiled. What would he do? Would he stagger, or exclaim, or grab hold of her in front of the entire scandalised court? Would guards rush forward to rescue her from the advances of a mere servant?

She laughed, and from the jumble on Merlin's table, she picked one final thing and pinned it into her collar.

* * *

Mithian still wore her red gown, nothing finer, but she was a queen and who could criticise her? She ignored the goblets of wassail being offered at the door to the great hall, and looked for Merlin in the crowd.

He wore his black court jacket, and the medals of his office as physician. He stood quietly by the window where he had given her the flowers, his face still, his eyes searching the room.

Mithian drew her hood around her throat, covering her dress, and approached him. "There is a law," she said, not waiting for Merlin's greeting, "an established law which says that a marriage can be ended in the case of abandonment. That is what I will do."

"He has abandoned you," Merlin said. He frowned at her hood.

"And then I fled here. I am not blameless," said Mithian, "and I will not pretend to be so. I meant it when I said that I do not like lies." Merlin flinched. Mithian softened her voice. "I will have this handfasting undone. I hope to have the support of my people."

"You will have Camelot's support," said Merlin. "I will make sure of it."

Mithian smiled to hear him mention the power he had over Arthur. "I have also spoken to Gwen," she said. "I know I can rely on my friends."

"I'm glad you found your answer," he said in a low voice.

"Yes," she said. "But I know I still owe you yours."

She lowered her hood, revealing the neckline of her gown.

His mouth fell open. He stretched out his hand to touch the rose, the snowdrop...,and the glowing yellow daffodil. It was fresh and fragrant and, in December, quite impossible. He raised his eyes to her in question.

Mithian caught Merlin's hand and held it in both hers. "I found your book," she said. "The night in your bed, your awful, unforgettable bed. I got up and walked around and found your book on the floor."

"You know," he said. "About me." His voice caught.

She nodded.

He cleared his throat, and pulled her close. Into her ear he said clearly, "You knew that I have magic."

"It's all right," she said, taking his shoulders and holding him away so she could look into his face. "Yes, I know." She pushed a lock of his hair back off his brow. "And so I went back to your room, after I checked your law books and your almanac, and I said the spell for this." She touched the yellow flower.

"You weren't afraid. Of me."

"No. You're a good person, Merlin. You tried to warn me. Tried to tell me that you are magical, that our child will almost certainly have magic. So I was not afraid." She unfastened the daffodil and gave it to him. "This is for you. It may turn back into a spoon, I don't know." She laughed.

Merlin took the daffodil. "Our child," he said.

"Yes," she said, and although the room thronged with people, she took his palm and placed it low on the scarlet cloth covering her belly.

Merlin gasped. His eyes were bright with sudden tears, tears like those she had shed when she counted days in his almanac and knew for certain that it was true, that a child had started within her.

"I have written to my chancellor," said Mithian briskly. "Scouts will seek out the man who was my consort and offer him an estate in the land of my father's ancestors. He is not to come back."

"But you will return to Nemeth," said Merlin, his hand still on her stomach. "You won't stay with me?"

"Nemeth in summer is too beautiful to refuse," she said. "But Camelot in winter holds a special place in my heart too. I think we will manage."

His eyes brightened. "Half and half," he said.

"We each have a duty that cannot be ignored," she said.

"Yes." He laughed in surprise, that she had found this simple idea, when all his worrying had not produced it. He took her hands, and kissed it, and tucked it through his arm. "I want to tell Arthur," he said. "I want to tell everyone."

She leaned against him, and they weaved through the crowd.

"The magic," she said as they approached the thrones. "It is certain? For the baby?"

"I think so."

"Then we have a special duty to this child, too. Because he, or she, will already be of two kingdoms, and two stations in life, and we must make this extra gift nothing more of a burden."

"When he cries," said Merlin, "his eyes will flame golden and every window will crack."

She laughed and flung her arms around him. Above them, the King and Queen were beaming. "I can't wait."

"Nor I," said Merlin. He kissed her hands once again. His eyes glowed with joy like a Yule flame lit against the darkness of the longest night. "My perfect Mithian, my love in winter."

"No," she said. She touched the tears on his cheek, and marvelled at him, his miraculous kindness and love. "Merlin, it is as you always knew. Our love is for the stars, and summer."

FIN

* * *

 **Author's Note:** I hope you liked this Yule fic. I have already made the comment to my reader mersan and want to repeat it here: I was reluctant at first to write a story about a woman who lost a child and wanted another one. These things are not trivial. But then I thought, Merlin is too honest to take advantage of someone in grief. He would never go along with a plan like hers, regardless of his secret reasons. That is part of why Mithian falls in love with him. So I made it mostly about how they fell in love, because Mithian's loss made her confused, but Merlin's kindness helped her recover.

And as for their future, and the marriage she believes is so uneven - just wait til she finds out he's also a dragonlord...

Thanks for reading, and Merry Yule! -Sef


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